


At the End of a Hair's Life

by ariofthesea



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, two grown men acting like dolts in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2599037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariofthesea/pseuds/ariofthesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too much tension lingers in the atmosphere the night before Koujaku chops Aoba's hair off.  Aoba figures the best way to lighten the mood is to dance it out.  Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End of a Hair's Life

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, the songs the boys hear in this piece are "Makkana Taiyou" by Hibari Misora with the Blue Comets and "Ain't Cha-Cha Coming Out T-tonight" by Izumi Yukimura. You can easily find both on Youtube ^^

The night before one of the most important days for both Aoba Seragaki and Koujaku started off rather nondescript.  

Like most other nights, it began when they returned to Koujaku’s place after spending a most of their waking hours earning what they needed to eat.  That evening, however, Aoba noticed that Koujaku was uncharacteristically quiet, so much so that he worried that Koujaku had fallen ill.  When he broached Koujaku about the subject, Koujaku waved him off, claiming that he felt fine.  Aoba, of course, didn’t buy it at all.  He figured that his haircut—an event the two had discussed in great detail for weeks—loomed at a mere eighteen hours away was the reason for Koujaku’s odd behavior.  Even if Aoba insisted that he not fret over it too much, he knew that wouldn’t be enough to ease Koujaku’s mind.  He decided to let the subject drop, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  Even then, his mind couldn’t wander away from his hair, as his eyes lingered on its reflection.

“Boo.”

Aoba’s shoulders shot up to his ears.  He gradually turned his head to see Koujaku leaning against the doorway.  A little wave of relief washed over his mind; now  _this_  was more like the Koujaku he always knew.  Still, he didn’t want Koujaku to sense his own unease, and so he pretended to appear unfazed.

“Could ‘oo at ‘east ‘ait until I spit?”  Aoba said as he resumed brushing his teeth.

“Could you at least not talk like you’ve got cock in your mouth?”

Aoba’s eyes went wide and he sprayed the mirror with a shower of minty saliva.  As he scrubbed the excess drool from his lips, he heard Koujaku chuckle.

“Made ya spit.”

Aoba narrowed his eyes at Koujaku and crinkled his nose.  

“Sorry, sorry.  I’ve been waiting to spring that one on you for a little bit now.”

“What a charmer.”  

Aoba grabbed a damp towel and wiped the spit streaming down the glass.  It was only when he finished that he realized Koujaku had snuck up behind him and wrapped his arms around Aoba’s shoulders.  Aoba welcomed the heavy warmth by leaning his head against Koujaku’s elbow pit and stroking his scar-covered knuckles.

“Tomorrow.”

Aoba watched their reflections as Koujaku lifted a section of long blue hair with care.  His wistful gaze scanned the individual strands, as if to bid each one an early farewell.  It all made little sense to Aoba, now even more so that before.  Koujaku had poured out his deep desire to cut Aoba’s hair, so why would he act like he was mourning over it now?  Nevertheless, Aoba wasn’t in the mood to mull over it too much, and so he echoed:

“Tomorrow.”

The faint sound of music from Aoba’s coil in the bedroom traveled into the bathroom.  The radio station had been airing oldies for the past hour, with Misora Hibari’s “Makkana Taiyou” playing at that moment.  The rhythm seemed to infect Koujaku, as he began to sway with the beat, his hips up against Aoba’s backside and his bulge brushing ever-so-slightly.  Aoba let out a tiny surprised noise, but soon loosened his muscles and surrendered his body to Koujaku’s gentle swaying, allowing himself to be moved to the beat as well.  

“A-Aoba…”

Koujaku, seemingly aware of what Aoba let him do, pulled his arms back a bit, lightening the weight on Aoba’s shoulders.  Red began to color his flustered face.  As if on cue, the song ended.      

“Aww, I was sort of having fun,” said Aoba.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah…”  

Aoba rubbed his arm.  He hated when emotions between him and Koujaku reached this boiling point of awkward.  Indeed, their relationship had just graduated from childhood friends to lovers, and so there was naturally going to be a transitional period.  But there had to be  _some_  way to make it a little less strained in times like these.      

Just then, a new song began.  Its tempo, more upbeat than the last, struck Aoba with inspiration.  He slipped out from under Koujaku’s arms and ran to the bedroom for his coil.  As he turned up the volume, he heard Koujaku’s footsteps creep up to the entrance.

“Aoba?”

He didn’t respond.  Instead, he began swinging his arms and snapping his fingers in time with the beat.  He complemented his arm movements with a stationary strut and a comically serious face.  Koujaku lowered his head and clamped a hand over his mouth.  As much as Koujaku tried to hide it, Aoba could clearly see him struggling to keep a straight face at the sight of Aoba’s dance.  

“Oh my god.”  Much to Aoba’s delight, his plan was beginning to work; he forced a laugh of disbelief out of Koujaku.  At this rate, all remaining tension would turn to ash. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m actually having fun.”  His lips curled up in a smirk.  “Unlike this one guy I know, who’s all by his lonesome.”

Though still grinning, Koujaku held up a hand of rejection.

“I think I’m gonna sit this one out, seeing as it’s a  _bit_ too silly for my tastes.  Thanks anyway.”

“You’re just scared you can’t beat my ridiculousness.”

“Well well, do I detect a challenge?”

“Damn right you do.”

Koujaku adjusted his kimono so it teased the skin of his slackening shoulders.  Aoba could feel his smile widening, not just because Koujaku decided to dance with him, but also because of the way he swaggered over with his signature proud grin plastered on his face.  And his hips—the way he rocked those toned hips under the rich red fabric of his kimono—Aoba began to worry that  _he’d_ become the butt of the nosebleed jokes.  

In spite of the suggestive entrance on to the floor, Koujaku’s actual dancing consisted of half-assed body turns and even more half-assed arm circles.  _Really_ , Aoba thought,  _is that all this legendary ladykiller’s got in him_?  

Pressing his back against the side of his boyfriend’s body, Aoba held his arms up at right angles while brushing his ass against Koujaku’s thigh.  In response, Koujaku turned to his right so he and Aoba were grinding backs and butts.  Just as Aoba had hoped, any tension from earlier had dissipated.  In that moment, there was no need to think about the details of where their relationship had once been or where it would go next; there were only two excuses for grown men losing themselves and their insecurities in a good time.  

“We should tango,” said Aoba as Koujaku twirled him and pulled him to his chest. 

“What?”  Koujaku wore a fake smile to mask his confusion.  “Where’d that come from?”

“This song’s perfect for that sort of thing!”  Aoba entwined fingers with Koujaku and thrust their arms forward while snaking his free arm around Koujaku’s back.  They remained still for a few seconds before Aoba said: 

“Uh, dingus?  You’re kinda supposed to wrap your arm around my back, too.”

“How would I know?”  Koujaku looked the other way and pouted his lower lip.  “It’s not like I’ve done a tango before.  Where did  _you_  even learn to do it anyway?”

“From some old American movies.”

“Right, because everything’s accurate in movi—!”

Koujaku’s original sentence was cut off by his own yelp as Aoba guided them both forward at a brisk pace.  Aoba laughed while steering their bodies around the room, making a point to pass the full-length mirror in the corner.  In the split-second they passed the mirror, Koujaku caught a glimpse of their reflections, and his eyes lit up with understanding.

“Oh wait, yeah! I  _have_  seen this before!”

Aoba lost control of their two-person vehicle the moment Koujaku decided to drive it to the windowsill.  

“Um, what are you—”

“Isn’t this also something you’re supposed to do?”

Koujaku slipped a fallen branch from the miniature sakura tree in between his teeth and wiggled his eyebrows.  

“That’s perfect,” Aoba snickered.

Koujaku led them to the doorway and let the branch drop from his mouth.

“If I’m not mistaken, the tango ends a little like this.  Aoba, can you go semi-limp for me?”

“Wait, what?”

Though uncertain of what Koujaku was aiming to do, Aoba did as told and relaxed his muscles. Koujaku turned Aoba so that they faced one another and wrapped both of his arms around Aoba’s hips and back.  They stood in that position, unmoving, for a few uncomfortable moments before Aoba thought:  _Wait_ ,  _is he trying to dip me?_ Aoba took too long to come to this realization, as he felt another foot kick his achilles heel, causing him to cry out and stumble backwards.  At first, the two strong arms wrapped around his body held him up securely, but a disoriented Aoba flailed around trying to reach for Koujaku’s shoulders as his own gripping point.  In his moment of panic, Aoba elbowed Koujaku’s cheek and kicked his shin, causing Koujaku to also lose balance and composure.  The final notes of the song rang out triumphantly as the two men toppled to the floor as a single, frazzled heap.  They lay there for several minutes, panting and sprawled out like crushed frogs.  Aoba started giggling, much to Koujaku’s dismay and embarrassment.

“Oi.  It wasn’t that funny.”

Hearing his boyfriend’s pouty voice sent Aoba into a laughing fit.

“Hey, shut up!”

Koujaku rolled off of the cackling Aoba in a huff.  

“Quit being such a big baby,” said Aoba, wiping a tear from his eye, “that was hilarious and you know it.”

Koujaku’s suddenly moved in towards Aoba silenced him with a passionate kiss.  Aoba reciprocated with loving tongue movements because he knew it would make his big baby feel better.  

Even so, big baby Koujaku was still  _his_  Koujaku. 

When they parted lips, Koujaku wove a lock of Aoba’s hair around his index finger.  

“How was that for the last night with your long hair?”

Aoba shrugged.  “I’ve told you again and again, it’s going to grow back.”

“Yeah, but think of all you’ve been through with your hair as it stands now.  Both good and bad memories run through those strands.  I want your last memories with this very hair to be good ones.  Make its life end on a high note.”

Even after all of the times Koujaku went on about the importance and meaning of Aoba’s hair, Aoba still didn’t quite understand why it was such a big deal to him.  But when Koujaku put it that way, Aoba could begin to see where he was coming from.  

And maybe he was right.  The last memory it deserved to have absorbed into its shafts was the memory of flying freely while its owner wasted precious time with the man he loved more than anything.  


End file.
